


Of lives unlived

by mynewnameisfluffy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynewnameisfluffy/pseuds/mynewnameisfluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon and Sansa is sent back in time by some unknown force, to right before the King arrives to make Ned his Hand. As events unfold, they use their knowledge of the realm to help their family survive in the treacherous Game of Thrones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day the strangers arrived in Winterfells courtyard started out as any other day did. At the crack of dawn, the children were rushed out of bed, dressed, and met in the Great Hall to break their fast. Jon, Robb and Theon went out to the yard to meet with Rodrik, as Arya and Sansa walked to their lesson with their septa. Lord and Lady Sark went on with their daily business, managing the household and whatever else needed their attention. The servants bustled about as usual, gossiping in corners and doing their duties. Of late, the juiciest tales had been those that detailed why the King was bringing his court to Winterfell.

 

As Jon had a break from the swordplay as Robb and Theon clashed blades, a bright, white light started shining in mid-air. It drew the attention of everyone, stopping them in their tracks. When the light decreased, the forms of a man and a woman holding hands and each their raised goblet became visible.

“For the North!” they bellowed as one, before startling, and turning around to take in their surroundings.

“Where did the feast go?” the woman inquired. Her hair was a rich auburn and fell to her lower back. She was wearing an exquisite white dress whit direwolf trimmings in blue, a black cape around her shoulders. On her head a crown of bronze sat, adorned with swords.

“I think we are still in Winterfell, but how we got out into the courtyard, I do not know.” The man answered her. His dark brown hair was neatly combed, but a few stray curls fell down unto his forehead. His red doublet had both a three headed dragon, as well as two direwolves facing it on either side. He had on tight black trousers, and a grey cape trimmed with white fur. He wore a crown matching the woman’s, though his was bigger.

The woman brought her goblet to her nose.

“I cannot smell any poisons I recognize, but if anyone wanted us dead, they would not be that stupid, would they?”

“Well, if we are dead, we ended up in some miserable hell. Greyjoy!” the last he bellowed, threw his goblet in the light summer snows, let go of the woman’s hand, and stormed towards the two dumbstruck boys who had let go of their swords in pure astonishment.

“Robb!” the red-head squealed. “I have missed you so!” at this, she gathered her skirts, and ran at him. At the same time she gathered him in her arms, the man had reached Theon, grabbed him by the scruff, and lifted him off of the ground.

“Even if you are already dead, I can still make you pay.” He growled.

“Who are you people?” Robb managed to get out after he had untangled himself.

“Robb, it’s me, your sister Sansa. Oh, forgive me, I must have changed much from last you saw me.”

“Last I saw you was at breakfast. You cannot be my sister, she is eleven.” Robb looked at her with a mixture of confusion and bubbling anger that someone would dare impersonate his sweet sister.

Sansa looked up at her husband in confusion, but he was too occupied with yelling abuse at Theon to notice her. As her eyes began to wander, taking in the rest of the people, she stopped short, transfixed by the brown-haired youth looking at her, mouth agape. Realization as to whom she was looking at hit her, so she turned, strode over to her husband and grabbed his face in her hands and turning it against her, so she could look him in the eyes. Not caring that he was still holding the Greyjoy heir an inch or so above ground, she started whispering intently to him.

“We cannot be dead, as two of you in the afterlife is impossible. It is a bit comforting to know that we haven’t left orphans behind us, but where and when we are, not to mention how we are to get back home, are the key questions.” At her words, he started scanning the crowd.

“Was my hair always that messy?” he asked her.

“I’ve seen it worse. I’ve seen _you_ worse.” She traced a scar running down his left cheeck-bone with her thumb. His face softened at her touch, and his eyes filled with warmth. As he graced her with a soft, loving smile, Theon interrupted.

“Could you stop the sickeningly lovey-dove eyes and let me down?”

Jon sent him a final glare, before letting go of his shirt. Theon was not completely prepared for this, and lost his footing, resulting in him landing flat on his ass. Jon and Sansa started a heated discussion in hushed tones that Robb only caught bits and pieces of.

“Change history” .. “Better future” .. “Unseen consequences” .. “Family, Jon!” .. “Loose you” .. “Fight for the Dawn” .. “Kill those bastards that hurt you” .. “Talk to them”.

Sansa turned to her brother.

“Where is Father, Robb?”

“I refuse to believe you are my sister! This must be some evil trick. Sorcery.” he said, pointing to her with the training sword he had retrieved from the ground. Jon’s hand went to the sword at his hip.

“When I was five and you were eight, I forced both you” she pointed to Robb “and you” she pointed to young Jon “to stand in as mannequins, as I wanted to sew dresses. I ended up stitching the sleeve to your left arm.”

Jon looked at her with indignation.

“You swore to never say that aloud.”

“Desperate times crave desperate measures. Now it’s your turn convince him.” She gestured to his younger self.

“You want me to convince myself that I am me?”

“Yes.”

Jon got a resigned expression on his face, but nevertheless, he started towards his younger self. As he pulls to a stop in front of him, he puts a hand on his younger self’s shoulder, looks into his eyes and says:

“You have wondered for years who your mother is, why Lord Stark has not told you, and you have ended up on being ashamed of her, whoever she is, because she got your father to break his vows. Once, when you asked him, he got a wistful look on his face, and gazed at a tapestry of a direwolf behind the desk in his solar. You could swear you heard him murmur “I promise”, before repeating the answer he always gave, “I will tell you when you are older.” There is nothing to be ashamed of, I promise.” He gives him a reassuring squeeze.

“He is probably in his solar.” Young Jon says.

“The solar.” Jon says, walks back to Sansa, drapes his arm around Sansa’s waist, and they walk into Winterfell, striding past astonished servants, who hurry to curtsy and bow.

 

 

 

 

 

“Father” “Uncle”.

Ned Stark looks up from the ledgers he is going over to see two finely dressed people that is the spitting image of himself and his wife when they were younger. They storm into his solar, carrying themselves with dignity, and an air of command.

“We have important issues to discuss with you.” The woman says.

“Issues concerning the good of the realm.” The man supplements.

“Who are you.” Ned asks. The couple exchanges glances.

“We are Jon and Sansa Stark Targaryen.” Says Sansa.

“And we have reason to believe we have been sent here, from your future, to our past, to help prevent the horrible things that follows.” Jon states.

“Sit, so I may talk to you.”

 

 

 

 

 

“That was you.”

“Yes.”

“And that was Sansa.”

“Yes.”

“You were crowned. Dressed to the nines. In Targaryen colours.”

“Yes.”

“You were _married._ ”

“Yes.” Jon looked a bit green.

“They looked in love enough, from my perspective.” Theon said, as he got up from the ground. As he walked towards the other two, he brushed some light snow off of his clothing.

“How?” Said Robb.

“Why?” said Jon.

“Do you want to listen in at the door?” Theon suggested.

“Yes.” Both Robb and Jon agreed.

As they set off towards Lord Stark’s solar, Rodrik stood there, stiff as a board, dumbstruck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“What are these horrible events you speak of?” asks Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. His daughter and his nephew exchange glances.

 

“Shall we take them in chronological order?” Jon asks Sansa.

 

“That will be best, I think. It will be easier to remember everything, then.” She turns to her father, expression blank. “Robert Baratheon will come to Winterfell to offer you the Handship. Some time before the court arrives, you will bring Jon, Robb, and Bran out to watch as you execute a Nights Watch deserter. On your way back, you will encounter a direwolf, killed by a stag, with her litter of six pups, one of whom is an albino. This is Jon’s Ghost. He will convince you to let us keep the pups. When the King arrives, Bran will fall from the First Keep, and loose the use of his legs. You will accept the proposals Robert puts forward, for you to become hand, and for me to become Joffrey’s betrothed. We will travel down the Kingsroad, where Joffrey will attack Arya, so Arya’s Nymeria will attack Joffrey. Arya will chase her away, and my Lady will have to die in her stead. When we arrive in the capitol, you will realize that none of the royal children are Robert’s, and after you alert the Queen of your suspicions to let her escape, Robert will die in a hunting accident, and you will be framed for treason. When you are put in front of the sept of Baelor to confess for your sins and join Jon at the Wall, Joffrey will take your head.” At this, Sansa grabbed Jon’s hand for support. He gave hers a reassuring squeeze. “Arya escapes the Red Keep, but I am kept as a hostage. After months of living in the keep, I am set aside as the future Queen so Joffrey can marry Lady Margaery Tyrell, and I am forced into a marriage with the Imp. At Joffrey’s wedding feast, where he is poisoned by Margaery’s grandmother, I am smuggled out of Kings Landing and to the Eyrie by Petyr Baelish, who marries Aunt Lysa, just to push her out the Moon Door. He has me pose as his bastard daughter. After I revealed myself as Sansa Stark for the Vale lords, Littlefinger was sent flying. Then, we set out for the North, to reclaim Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton, and freed Stannis’ forces from the snow. As the Mountain clans followed me as ‘The Ned’s daughter’, but later as ‘The Sansa’, we travelled further north to the Wall to join in the fight for the dawn. Where I found Jon in one of the ice cells.”

 

Ned was visibly taken aback by this. “Why were you in the ice cells, Jon? Why were you at the Wall?” Jon just smiles wryly.

 

“I was in the ice cells because they did not know if I was a wight or not, as I had walked out of my own funeral pyre with Lightbringer in my hand, stab-wounds healed. As for why I was on the Wall, when you went South, I took the Black. Uncle Benjen tried to talk me out of it, but I wanted to find a place where I belonged, so I didn’t listen. When I then tried to join Robb in his campaign to free you, I was already a sworn Brother, and was brought back by my friends. I became Lord Commander Mormont’s steward, and was gifted his Valyrian steel bastard sword as a reward for saving him from a wight. As we sent for aid down South, Lord Commander Mormont took the largest ranging in living memory up North, beyond the Wall, to see to that the newest King Beyond the Wall was dealt with, and to seek answers. I was tasked with infiltrating the Wildlings, and learn of their plans. This I did, and learnt that they where panning to bring down the Wall with the Horn of Joramun, to flee the White Walkers.”

 

“White Walkers? Those belong in Old Nan’s tales, Jon, they cannot be true.” Lord Stark interrupted.

 

“They are very much real, Father. It was the coming of the Long Winter, and the White Walkers amassed their forces. The Song of Ice and Fire was to play out, and most of the world was none the wiser.”

 

“Well. I deserted the Wildlings as they tried to scale the Wall, and was elected Lord Commander. I sheltered Stannis Baratheon at the Wall, as he was the only King who had answered my calls for aid against what lurked Beyond, and told him how to get on the good side of the mountain clans to reclaim Winterfell. He tried to legitimize me, to give me Winterfell, but I could not accept when I knew Sansa lived. It was hers by right. As I got a letter from Ramsay Snow, claiming that he was going to marry Arya, I deserted, tried to come to her aid. So my men stabbed me. And I arose from the funeral pyre, made to make sure I did not rise again as a wight, as Azor Ahai reborn.”

 

As Jon stops to let Ned absorb I all, they hear running outside the door, and a moment later, a knock. “Enter” says Ned. Maester Luwin walks into the room, holding a letter in his hand.

 

“My Lord, the King is coming to Winterfell.”

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Maester Luwin, find my wife and send her here, please. We should start to prepare for the royal visit.”

 

“Yes, my Lord.”

 

“How are we supposed to explain your presence here?” Ned asks.

 

“Our presence?” Jon says.

 

“Well, I cannot send you away anywhere, can I? But we have to come up with anything other than that you are my daughter and good-son from the future.”

 

“Tell them Jon is your cousin, and I his wife. Say that he is a Flint from the mountains, visiting both to give you an update on how the clan is fairing as a representative for the Flint, and to get acquainted with his mother’s family. His mother, of course, has to be one of great-grandmother Arya’s nieces. No-one will care which.” Sansa says.

 

“Who will you be then? Shall I have stolen you?” Jon asked her, teasingly.

 

“I cannot act a wildling, you fool. And with how the clans get along with the wildlings, even after the settling of the Gift, that is highly unlikely. No, I’ll have to be from one of the other clans, a Norrey, perhaps.”

 

“Well, seeing as no-one south of the neck cares about the Clans, I don’t see how this wouldn’t’ work. The only problem being, of course, convincing younger me, Robb, and Theon, as well as Ser Rodrik, to not tell anyone. Perhaps the family sans Rickon, as he is so young, should be in on it, seeing as the people we are impersonating are supposed to be family.”

 

“Should we try to stop some of the events from happening, perhaps? Expose the adultery of the Queen?”

 

“Well, that would be a start. Rallying the banners and preparing the realm for the Fight for the Dawn? Maybe treat with Mance?”

 

“Well yes. But what should we do about Robert Baratheon, when his heirs are revealed to not be his heirs? We have Shireen, who could be next in line. Eddrick could be legitimized. We could send for Daenerys, as Viserys did not seem fit for kingship, from what she told us. But no, the dragons will not be hatched. We need those against The Others. He could re-marry, and have more children. I can see the Tyrell’s offering Margaery. Or you. By the Gods, you’re next in line by law.”

 

“No, that would create more conflict, and distract from the real battle. We should just wait for my aunt. Tywin cannot refuse if we catch them in the act, right? And then he will have to accept Tyrion as his heir. Although I would like nothing more than to chop his head of myself.”

 

Ned looked on at their exchange with bewilderment.

 

“Who fathered the Queens children, if they are not Roberts? And how do you plan on catching them in the act, with enough proof that he will believe you?”

 

“The Kingslayer, of course. That is why Cersei got him to join the Kingsguard. To have him near her when she married Rhaegar. Well, we know they will be together when he pushes Bran out the window of the First Keep after he catches them, Jamie told you that much before he was consumed by dragon fire, so we could bring someone there whom the King trusts. The King would not be quiet enough that we could sneak up on them. But whom?” says Sansa.

 

Ned’s jaw drops as he listens to his daughter’s scheming.

 

“Jamie Lannister? Fathered his sisters bastards? That is worse still than adultery, it is incest. An abomination in the eyes of the Gods.”

 

“Well, that did not stop them from committing the sin, did it? We have it from the man himself, that the Princes and Princess are his children. Who does Robert Baratheon trust enough for him to believe that his wife was caught sleeping with her brother. Well he hates the woman, so he wont be too hard to sway. You would be the best person to deliver the news. We should just lay in hiding in the building and wait for them to arrive and get intimate, and then seize them. Keep them there in their state of undress, and bring Robert.” Jon says, the last part being directed at Ned.

 

The door opens suddenly, and Lady Catelyn Stark enters.

 

“You sent for me, my Lord?”

 

“Yes, Cat. The King is bringing his court North to Winterfell. We need to plan for their stay.” Ned says.

 

“Why is the King coming North?” she asks.

 

“To get Uncle to become Hand in order for the prick to continue his drinking and whoring while the Kingdom deteriorates undisturbed.” Jon says. Ned sends him a stern glance, while Sansa laughs. Catelyn is taken aback by the voice of this stranger who speaks treason, as both Jon and Sansa are sitting with their backs towards the door, and are hidden by their chairs.

 

“May I ask who you are meeting with, my Lord?”

 

“Your daughter and good-son.” Sansa says, before standing up to greet her mother. “From ten years into the future.”


End file.
